Well, at least you guys talked…

  I wouldn’t consider that talking

  Okay, u exchanged words and breaths

  Sounds sexual

  Mister Mlynar, what a flirt you are

  Shut up your idea was shit just admit it

  My idea was great but since you seem

  incapable of admitting when you need

  help of course it’s going to go badly

  I’m blocking you now

  Dumbass

  This is the exchange Jessy and I had after the fiasco that was yesterday afternoon. Fortunately, my brief passage in his class was the last place I needed to be for the rest of the day, and with all the frustration building up inside my body, it was a pretty good thing I didn’t have many other boxes to check in my agenda.

  In fact, I immediately hopped inside of my car and drove to my usual gym. The coach accepted that I borrowed some equipment and clothes from his own locker (since I hadn’t planned on needing a session) and instantly privatized the ring for me. We had come to a silent agreement since I started going there. He lets me fulminate on the ring, punching either a bag of sand or a poor fellow human coming to evacuate the same anger I have in me but in much more proportionate amount— I pay him graciously for the service rendered. Only, we connected at some level, because any time of the day is fine for him and whatever tools I need, he delivers. I’m 75% sure he’s not afraid of me, because, by his looks, he could, without an ounce of a doubt, destroy me on the ring.

  Maybe he sees himself in me. And suddenly, I feel like the Karate Kid.

  I stayed for two hours last night, drenching the floor with my sweat and almost my blood because of how hard I punched with my fists but Steven, the coach, stopped me. Also, he wanted to close earlier than usual for personal reasons.

  I returned the equipment and waited to go home to take a much-needed shower. Where Andrew’s eyes kept flashing being my lids. Where his words spined round and round in my mind until I used my internal voice to shut up the other voices. Until I took a deep breath, eventually used my hands to wash away the sweat and put myself to bed without even eating.

  It makes me even more pissed, I realize, to acknowledge how miserable and vulnerable and fucking angry he makes me feel. His presumed kindness. His nice words. His apologies. I know where he can shove them. I don’t care what Jesse says. I won’t ask for his help. Won’t happen. Never.

  This morning, I arrive at Caroline’s cubicle with less haste. She looks happy, smiling with perfect white teeth while she takes a fuming mug to her lips. Right until her eyes fall onto me. She knows. And I know that she knows.

  “Alexej!” she exclaims with a high pitch voice I’m pretty sure I never heard her use. She’s either embarrassed or she burnt herself with her coffee. “You are resplendent today.”

  “Resplendent isn’t an adjective I would use to describe myself. Ever.” I grunt but keep my smile. She decomposes herself as I rest my elbows over the counter. “How are you?”

  She shuffles some papers between her fingers without purpose. “I’m very good. What about you?”

  My grin grows. “Perfect. Tell me… Did a certain professor come here to ask questions about me, my dear Caroline?”

  She gulps. And becomes red. And for a second, I regret being this mean and oppressive to her. But then Andrew’s face appears in my head. “Sorry?”

  “You know.”

  “I do?”

  “Come on, Caroline. I’m not going to eat you.”

  Her eyes get bigger. “You sure look like it right now.”

  I straightened my pose to feel less looming over her. But I do cross my arms and watch her expectantly. “So?”

  “Yes, Andrew came here to ask questions about you. Very innocently! He seemed genuinely interested. I wouldn’t have said anything if I felt he wasn’t sincere. You do trust me, Alexej, right?”

  I did. I do. I don’t know. I’ve been so disappointed by people my whole life; trust isn’t something easy to give. And my relationship with Caroline has started because of the fact she managed to pronounce my name right. Which is rather light, I concede. But for once, I wanted to believe that good things could happen to me as well.

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  Betrayal would be too strong to describe my feelings toward Caroline right now. “You’re upset,” she adds with a sad expression on her features. “I’m sorry. You’re right, it was none of my business to tell all these things about you to him.”

  “All these things?” I repeat. Just how much has she divulged?

  Again, her face displays fear. “I mean… Just a figure of speech.”

  “I’m not mad. Or upset. He’s just snooping around and I want to know why.” While I grab my suitcase again, she clears her throat. When my eyes cross hers, I’m practically sure she blushed.

  “He’s nice. Kind.”

  “Don’t you suspect that his loquacious abilities could be just a front to get what he wants?”

  She huffs and breaks the gaze. “Not everyone is that manipulative.”

  “His job is to literally scan people for clues. I’m sure he’s mastered the art of manipulation.”

  She stares a second too long and I know I’ve implanted doubt in her heart. Because, truly, synergology is a hoax and should be banned. But yet, our dean has hired a professor to teach this nonsense. “It’s probably more than that—”

  “Have you changed your perfume?”

  She’s startled. Her pretty dark green eyes fix me and her lids flutter once, twice, three times. The tint of her cheeks approaches red and I purposefully lean close to her. “I did but—”

  “It smells very good.” I say with a suave voice. My curious power has noticed the change of her smell the second I set foot inside the building. She conveniently sprayed her skin, her neck and wrists, maybe even her nape, so that her scent would follow her every move. My eyes focus on all these places and her breaths go erratic. I don’t feel proud using such subterfuge but she has to understand my point of view. “Are you freshening up for someone?”

  She’s very red now. And avoid my stare. “Alexej, what are you doing?”

  “You do like saying my name, don’t you?” Her mouth opens in disbelief. “I’m sure you’d love to scream it.”

  She gasps. Loudly. “Stop it. Now.” She almost shouts and pushes my shoulders out of her space.

  “You see how easy it is? How manipulative I can be? Imagine him. He sees every little movement you make. Every change in your face while he speaks. And when he has watched you long enough, you’re just an open book to him.”

  “I’ve apologized. What else do you want me to do?”

  “Nothing. I’m just proving a point,” her expression shows hurt and my stomach turns a little.

  “Well, I got it. Good day, Professor Miller.”

  She storms inside her office and closes the door behind her.

  ?

  “That will be all for today. Prepare for the next course carefully, as we will be presenting multiple forms of treatment for such diseases. Thanks.”

  As I finish my class, I ponder over watching each and every single student in my class to see if Andrew assisted it, or deliberately avoiding crossing eyes with them to eschew the moment I would fall over his.

  I decide that cleaning my desk and arranging my papers inside my briefcase is smarter.

  The students leave and two of them stay a bit to ask a few questions. It’s lunch time, and I’m rather surprised they didn’t escape the classroom in a hurry to join the cafeteria as fast as possible. Am I becoming too soft? The voice of my father floats back into my mind, repeating a certain word. .

  I answer them with abnegation and they eventually quit the room. One person lingers at the threshold and I lift an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

  “Are you Professor Miller?”

  This name. “That would be me, yes.”

  He comes forward. Holds out a letter for me, that I grab. “It’s already opened.” I notice. And he nods. His face constricted by embarrassment.

  “It has been delivered to the wrong person, I’m sorry.”

  “You mean, the other professor Miller in this institute?” My blood starts to boil.

  “Most certainly.”

  So, this letter, that was destined to me, has been opened, by Andrew, and most surely read. My nostrils flare because of how much oxygen I need to inhale. The man next to me takes a step toward the door. “Thanks. You can go.”

  He executes my command without a glance back.

  My fingers grab the letter from the torn envelope and open it without subtility. Inside, I recognize the address of a company I’ve applied to a few weeks ago, hoping for a job position in their research department.

  My father had sent a list of all the companies that could potentially need a researcher from my branch of specialty. He added a call, with his list, and explained that I would benefit from working on spontaneous applications. As if I was asking for a job as a cashier at the closest shop in my area. Despite going through thorough facts and reasons why this would be completely counter-productive, he insisted. Again, and again and again up until I had no other choice but to concede, in his presence, because he wouldn’t accept me just saying that I did. Apply.

  One of the reasons I obeyed was that I was surely convinced these companies wouldn’t even take the time to reply to such applications. That this letter would immediately fall either in their trash or their shredder. But no. They answered. And Andrew read it.

  No need to read more. Isabella told me it was pointless and I should’ve listened to her. But my father’s relentless harassment forced me into doing it anyway. I’ll call her soon, because another discussion is in order. I need to remind her what I want, what we both want, really, and how much more productive I would be in a lab.

  I smash the letter on the desk and if it weren’t for the weird black writing that seemed to appear under the lightning of the room, I would have torn the paper in shreds. The fact that I recognize the hand while watching backwards is terrifying.

  But the words are worse.